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Listed here are all the in characterinformation collected on missions that have been submitted to Valley Archives. To read any of the reports just click on one of the links below to expand and contract the yearly listings.

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The Story of the Halls of Suhtek

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The clash of swords rang through the chamber as Kurundani the Bloodsworn watched the two pairs of aspirants duel to and fro through the wide training hall.  His disdain for the duelling pair was evident upon his face as he turned to Lufanwani behind him and commented that only four aspirants remain where once the children of kings fought for the right to be the swords and shields of Her Dark Lady.  Lufanwani was more pragmatic commenting that all things pass and that these were the strongest now that Her Dark Lady was no more and the Pharaoh was beyond their reach now. However their hope was not dead for they had faith in the one that remains, believing that they will rebuild the Order in a new image and their power would grow again.  As if simply waiting for those words one of the aspirants sword flashed past his opponents guard and the noise in the hall quietened as the ring of a single pair of swords was accompanied by a few muted coughs and then silence. Kurundani queried the loyalty of the Fangs within the new order, to which Lufanwani paused as he watched the remaining pair of aspirants in a frantic exchange of blows resulting in the shortest of the pair collapsing to the ground his right arm gone and the left half of his skull a shattered mess.  Both victors dragged the corpses of their defeated opponent to the side of the hall to rest with several score other dead all garbed in similar black and gold tabards with shields and blades rested on their chests. With an indrawn breath they both walked to the centre of the hall, saluted one another, and began circling carefully. “They will fall into line once structure and order is restored”. Both men fell silent as they watched the contest that had been underway for the best part of a week come to its inevitable conclusion.  As they watched neither noticed a single figure steal from the shadows behind them and sprint away.



The scarred man was dismissive as he picked his nails with his knife, his contempt for what he saw as working under the rule of the weak was written all over his face.  He openly declared that he did not believe the vision of some dusty old priests and a barely trained boy. He carefully considered the man before him as he declared that it was time to look after his own interests instead of just doing an honourable, he spat the word, man’s dirty work.  The figure opposite him queried why come to him. The scarred man replied “You have power, more than some people suspect I’d say, and you’ve shown a”, he paused, “practicality in accepting the allegiance of parties seeking to distance themselves from previous loyalties”. The figure nodded and agreed, stating that he could always use people of his talents, and that an opportunity would present itself at the Darkmoot.  The instructions were clear yet unspoken, should the scarred man wish to change loyalties then he was expected to take the opportunity.


Lufanwani smiled at the priest standing before him while carefully avoiding staring at the Uruk guards shuffling and grunting to either side.  His own guards stood at cold blooded attention their only movement the flickering of tongues. The priest asked if there was an accord, the flames tattooed on the side of his face moving with the action of his jaw.  Lufanwani replied positively, “the Halls of Suhtek will be no more and the Circle Aflame will become the pre-eminent wielders of the evil sphere upon this land. Our forces complement each other well as we have discussed.  We shall begin moving our people after the Darkmoot concludes”.


Lufanwani and Kurundani walked side by side down the corridor watching as the nation's treasures were packed ready for travel.  Neither cared about the dark glances cast their way by the knifemen and assassins of the Fangs. With the children of Suhtek guarding them the miserable rabble would fall in line.  The fate of their people rested with the young squire who would become the first knight of the new order. For now though they had a Darkmoot to attend and their people must begin the move to their new lands.


Bertrand du Guesclin tossed fitfully.  The priests were gone to something called the Darkmoot and he awaited their return, he’d be one of the last to leave for their new home.  He understood the need to merge their forces with the Circle. With the loss of the Knights and devastation of his own ascension they were in a position of extreme weakness or so the priests told him.  It wasn’t thoughts of the future that kept him awake however. While he gloried in his victory he was still troubled by the destruction of every single one of his training companions. Calming himself he lay on his back saying each name of the his fallen brothers to himself in the dark remembering one specific blow or parry from each fight in honour of their memory.  Then his eyes flashed open and he saw a masked face above him and felt a hot flash of pain across his throat and then a warmth spreading across his chest. “Sleep tight Sir Bertrand” laughed the assassin as the life of the young man drained to the floor.


Last Updated on Thursday, 27 September 2018 11:31
 

The Story of Zalfurin and Calix

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After much focus and planning the shadowed pair had finally achieved one of their goals that had resulted in the capture of one of the first born.  They took their prize to one of their many bases to break him in. The breaking in consisted of the first born, Radnor Skyheart, being constrained by several of the largest zombies you have seen.  Despite this constraint still did the first born struggle and curse. Zalfuron watched impassively from across the room while two of the human guards began beating the prisoner with lengths of heavy wood although it made no difference.  However, the thoughts on how to use this first born were mixed, with each of the shadowed pair having different goals and ideas on how best to proceed. Zalfuron Nightspell wanted to take the first born to the West to turn it into a Void Master.  Whereas Calex Wraithspawn had grown tired of his time serving the Darkness and sought a new alliance, one that shared his hatred and pain. So did they argue, to see whose voice would prevail, take the first born to the West and turn to Darkness or break his mind and make him one full of hatred and pain.  Many insults were hurled and things said but it was Zalfuron who left, leaving behind the first born to be used as a pawn by Calex, to use Radnor’s connection to the land and his people to spread his message of hate.


The alliance of the shadowed pair now lies in tatters, leaving Zalfuron Nightspell to consider his next move.  Zalfuron naturally turned to his own people and old ways, sending out tendrils of shadow in all directions. One particular tendril leading to his old home and in particular the land around it and its caretakers.  From his base in Dragur Falls did the lord of shadow wait for answers to his probing tendrils of shadow, projecting himself to keep an eye on his minions. Zalfuron appeared among a group of Darkness controlled by one of his own, giving instructions before disappearing once more.  The Drow left behind by Zalfuron took his shadows with him and encircled a group of Wizards and set upon them. Even caught unawares light and ice magic burst forth causing the darkness to briefly falter. But the shadows melted away only to strike again from different directions confusing the wizards and splitting their focus.  It was then the assassin struck. Leaping from concealment he was behind the target with two long strides, his blade tracing a line of death across their throat. As the wizard fell to his knees choking on his own blood the assassin dipped his hand into the satchel and withdrew a carefully wrapped bundle. Two more steps took him back into the shadows and he was away.


The other half of the split shadowed pair, Calex Wraithspawn, continued in his efforts to break the first born.  The Sneverhime roared as the blood gushed across his hands and chest. The butchered remains of the Shadowsfall swordsmen falling into a lifeless heap at his feet as so many had before.  He barely noticed the chains on his feet anymore. In the pit he didn’t need to run, or hunt, only fight, fight and win, fight and kill. Calex applauded gently from where he watched smiling slightly but he frowned as he saw the deep wound across Radnor Skyheart’s shoulder.  He gestured and the girl was dragged to the edge before Radnor and one of the cultists cut a deep furrow across her shoulder to match with a jagged knife. She screamed as the blood began to run down her arm and Radnor lunged toward the laughing cultist as they dragged her back.  Calex clapped his hands and two men dressed in ragged clothes, the black and blue of the kalid legions barely discernible, dropped into the pit one either side of him with Heavy maces gripped in their hands. Radnor bellowed at least now he could stop thinking about the girl. He only had to fight.  Fight and kill. Until he got his chance for revenge.


Last Updated on Thursday, 27 September 2018 11:31
 

The Story of Sir Pendragon and Erelan Black

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The race of Aldonar was long reviled by many, especially those of a goodly persuasion and none more so than members of Halmaddons Heights.  The hatred of the Aldonar was so intense that an entire Sect was formed to combat them, the Knights of Mandragon.  

The Knights of Mandragon are a small sect within the Heights that have dedicated themselves to the eradication of the Aldonar in all its forms.  Their order was set up by Sir Vincent Seutonius, a pious Knight who was utterly devoted to his family and in particular modelled himself on his uncle, Sir Mandragon.  Unfortunately Sir Mandragon met a cruel end at the hand of a vile Aldonar called Erelan Black, which was the primary reason for Sir Vincent setting up the order of the Knights of Mandragon in memory of his fallen uncle.

The fall of Sir Mandragon is a sorry tale of woe for his family and a lesson that revenge can lead to despair and justice is not always found.  This tale started with Sir Pendragon, the father of Sir Mandragon.  Sir Pendragon was a noble and lawful Knight who stood to protect the weak against the tide of evil.  He excelled in knightly combat and prided himself on seeking out powerful evil foes and challenging them to single combat.  He defeated many evil foes, with none being able to withstand his devotion and skill.  At the same time there was a young prince of the Aldonar, called Erelan Black, who had also developed somewhat of a reputation for excelling in knightly combat and defeating many goodly knights.

It was only a matter of time before these two powerful and opposing Knights would engage each other in a knightly duel to see who the pre-eminent knight upon Orin Rakatha was.  The scene was set and the two Knights and their squires met in a bright wood during High Sun.  The fight was spectacular and long with the skill of both Knights clearly evident, it was a joy to watch their dance of death and their squires looked on with open mouths, expressing their awe and admiration of the spectacle before them.  For a while it seemed that the pair were evenly matched with none of the two Knights being able to gain the upper hand, each Knightly ability being resisted by the other.  As the battle continued Erelan Black resorted to using the Evil sphere through his blade, but was easily resisted and turned aside by the devotions of Sir Pendragon.  As the battle continued it was Erelan Black who started to tire and falter as Sir Pendragon pushed the advantage.  Eventually Erelan Black stumbled and Sir Pendragon saw his opening to strike a fatal blow.  However at the last moment, Erelan Black turned aside the blade of Pendragon and dropped his shield to plunge a small dagger into the side of Sir Pendragon.

Both knights recovered their poise and Sir Pendragon looked down at the small wound in his side, confident that it was an insignificant wound.  The fight continued but Sir Pendragon started to move slowly and feel sluggish, his vision started to blur.  It was then that he looked upon the blade of Erelan Black that had been cast aside and he saw the remains of some liquid upon the blade.  He realised he had been dishonoured and laid low by a vile poison, what an ignoble end for such a valiant knight.  It was only a matter of time before Sir Pendragon stumbled again and fell to the blade of Erelan Black.

As Sir Pendragon fell his squire rushed to his side to pay the last rites to his fallen master.  Erelan Black slew the squire and buried his body within an unmarked grave, alongside his master, so that none would know of his cowardly act, using poison in a duel.  Erelan Black then left the scene of the battle to proclaim himself the greatest knight upon Orin Rakatha.  The wood where the duel took place was named Pendragon Wood in honour of the fallen knight.

Sir Mandragon was devastated at the loss of his father and vowed that he would avenge him.  He gathered a group of like-minded knights from Halmaddons Heights to take the fight to the Aldonar and seek out Erelan Black.  However, whilst Sir Mandragon was a noble and popular Knight, his skill did not match that of his father.  Eventually Sir Mandragon tracked down Erelan Black, in the very wood where his father was slain and challenged him to single combat.  Erelan Black accepted and the dual began.  Unfortunately it became quickly evident that Sir Mandragon was outclassed and he struggled against the superior foe, finally falling beneath the repeated blows of Erelan Black.  Not content with this easy victory, Erelan Black defiled the corpse of Sir Mandragon and got one of his Dymwan allies to raise the corpse as a foul undead.  There is a waystation within Pendragon Wood that was renamed Mandragons Folly to reflect this tragic turn of events.

Thus were the Knights of Mandragon formed.

Last Updated on Thursday, 27 September 2018 11:34
 
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